


The Old College Try

by sammyclay



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Frank is Frank, Multi, apologies to trapper but he is a plot device in this fic, margaret is their RA but also their friend, or warm mash autumn as it were, thank you hot mash summer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:54:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyclay/pseuds/sammyclay
Summary: “If I’m going to die in a horrific dorm fire, I might as well go out in comfort.”Hawkeye is left in the lurch when his best friend and roommate decides not to return to college for their junior year. But the appearance of one BJ Hunnicutt just might turn things around.
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Old College Try

**Author's Note:**

> hot mash summer on tumblr inspired me to write my first fic in years! please enjoy :)

Hawkeye Pierce was having a bad day.

Usually, he didn’t mind the craziness of move-in day – as a junior in college, he had unpacking his dorm down to a science. Move-in wasn’t the problem. The problem was the 8:02 am text from his best friend that had turned things from “just dandy” to “fucking miserable”.

_Hey Hawk, I’m sorry to have to do this over text, but I’m not coming back to school this semester. You know how rough last semester was. It’s just not the right time. I’m going to be travelling a bit then work and make some money. Sorry to leave you guys in the lurch like this. Whoever your new roommate is, I’m sure he’ll be fine. Talk soon, alright?_

Hawkeye could have denied things, said he hadn’t seen this coming. But the truth was, Trapper been a bit distant in his communications over the past few months, and he’d been a bit cagey about his future plans when they’d met up in Boston in July. And last semester _had_ been a rough one for Trapper – his course load had ramped up to new levels of insanity, and the amount of drinking that went on in their room every weekend (and to be honest, many weeknights) hadn’t helped. But even though Hawkeye understood where Trapper was coming from, it didn’t mean he wasn’t completely pissed that his best friend wasn’t coming back to college without so much as a measly phone call. A lousy text? It was so casual. Even an email would have been better somehow – some modicum of formality to recognize how monumental this was.

And then there was the matter of their dorm. Hawkeye lay on his bed, surveying the small kingdom that he now seemingly had to himself. Two bedframes, two desks, two dressers, and two closets. The non-regulation items consisted of a couple of oversized beanbags and a mini fridge that Hawkeye kept specifically for adult beverages. He wasn’t supposed to have the beanbags because there weren’t flame retardant, but he knew that his RA (good friend, verbal sparring partner, and onetime lover Margaret Houlihan) would give him a pass. She’d commented on the beanbags’ illegality earlier when he’d brought them down the hallway, but he had merely replied “If I’m going to die in a horrific dorm fire, I might as well go out in comfort.”

Hawkeye’s (and what should have been Trapper’s) modestly sized room was part of a two bedroom suite; in the other bedroom were sophomores Radar O’Reilly and Max Klinger, quirky guys but amicably nonetheless, at least most of the time. They’d all become friends in a lab they’d shared last year and had decided to room together. Attached to the bedrooms was a well-sized common area complete with a couch and small kitchen. Klinger had brought in a TV, and all in all they’d made a nice setup.

Hawkeye stared at the red numbers on his little digital alarm clock. 2:02 pm. Six hours A.T. (After Trapper). Six hours since Trapper left him in the lurch. He wondered when Trapper had backed out of university housing - and how long would it be until they shoved some poor bastard in his bedspace? He glanced at his stack of as-yet unpacked boxes and decided to get to work, just in case someone else did show up. Just then, Radar poked his head in the door.

“Hey Hawk. How’s it going?”

“How do you think it’s going?” he snipped.

“Alright, alright, I was just wondering if you wanted to grab food with me and Klinger.”

“Sorry Radar, I didn’t mean to snap at you. I’m just gonna stay here and unpack.”

“Okay, see ya later.”

Hawkeye started in on the first box, mostly consisting of clothes which he haphazardly threw into his dresser drawers. Opening up the second box, he saw that it contained a handle of gin which he’d acquired back home. The bottle was too tall for the mini fridge, so he balanced it precariously under his arm while he tried to rearrange the shelves in the fridge. Because Hawkeye was just having one of those days, the bottle of course fell from under his arm and crashed to the floor. While not totally shattered, the bottle had a large crack in it and gin had started to leak out.

“Fuck” was all he could manage to say as he gingerly picked the bottle up off the floor and pressed together the seam, trying to contain the leak.

“Can I help?” asked an unfamiliar voice from the doorway. Hawkeye looked up – way up, this guy was tall – to see a pleasant face with a head of neatly trimmed blond hair, wearing a concerned expression. The guy had an oversized hiking bag over one shoulder, and toted a long duffel.

“You a mountaineer or something?”

“Not quite,” responded New Guy, who had already swung his backpack off his shoulder and bent down over it on the ground, removing from it two empty Nalgene liter bottles. “I’m just from California.”

“Are you a boy scout, too? You sure are prepared,” Hawkeye responded, carefully removing the top of the gin bottle pouring its contents into the liter bottles. He’d managed to salvage most of it. Placing the broken bottle into the recycling bin, Hawkeye turned around to see that new guy had already grabbed a paper towel and was wiping up the small spill off the floor. New guy then stood up to face him.

 _New Guy. More like Cute Guy_ his brain supplied helpfully, but he tried not to dwell on it. Hawkeye held out his hand.

“Hawkeye Pierce.”

“BJ Hunnicutt,” new guy responded, with a firm handshake.

“What does BJ stand for?” Hawkeye mentally face-palmed right after saying it.

“Don’t you want to get to know me first?” BJ retorted lightly.

“I suppose I do,” said Hawkeye, smiling for the first time that day. “Did you just get assigned to this room?”

“Yep. Today. I’m a junior, but I just transferred here this year, so things were a bit delayed.”

“Well I’m glad you’re not an impressionable freshman, we wouldn’t you being corrupted by the sheer amount of debauchery that goes on in this suite.”

“Oh no, we couldn’t have any of that.”

“Well, I’ll have to introduce you to the rest of the guys once they get back.”

Hawkeye looked BJ up and down. He was clad in a basic jeans and a white tee shirt, but his shirt was crisp and clean, unlike Hawkeye’s, which was perpetually wrinkled.

“So, I take it you already know our suitemates?” BJ asked.

“Yeah, I met ‘em last year. Your spot was supposed to belong to another friend of mine who decided to take the semester off…we lived in this building last year too.”

“What do you do for fun around here?”

“Eh, sometimes we go out, though we have plenty of evenings here in the common room hanging out and playing poker. Once in a while we study. But you seem like the studious type.”

“Only sometimes,” replied BJ with a smile.

“What’s your major?”

“I’m double majoring in environmental science and political science. That’s part of why I transferred – I couldn’t do both at my old school.”

Hawkeye whistled. “We’ve got a real slacker on our hands!”

BJ merely smiled. “What’s your major?”

“Pre-med,” Hawkeye replied with a laugh.

“And I’m the slacker here?”

“Never fear, I only get by due to grade inflation. But enough about me, how about I show you around?”

“Lead the way.”

***

BJ Hunnicutt had had trepidations about his first day of junior year, to say the least. He remembered college move-in his freshman year – how lonely and isolated he’d felt being away from home for the very first time. It had taken him a while to form some solid friendships and shake the lonely feeling, and here he was starting all over again at a brand new school.

Right away upon entering his dorm room, though, he sensed that things would be different this time. Despite his roommate’s preoccupation at their first meeting, BJ felt instinctively that Hawkeye was one to keep things interesting and wouldn’t leave BJ out. In addition to being extremely talkative, the guy seemed to constantly be on the move – sharp blue eyes darting this way and that, ready for the next bit of entertainment. Despite having all the trappings of a typical college student (tired eyes, wrinkly tee shirt) Hawkeye at moments seemed old beyond his years, or at least a bit world weary. BJ found himself curious to find out more about him.

Currently, Hawkeye was leading him down the hallway with quite the spring in his step, supposedly taking him to meet their RA (“Margaret – a great gal, once you get to know her!”). Hawkeye stopped in front of a door not far from theirs and knocked three times in quick succession.

“Ohhhh, Margaret!” A young, athletic-looking blond woman with bright eyes opened the door.

“I can’t believe it’s been three hours since I heard your voice,” she said, deadpan.

“Margaret, how are you on this fine afternoon?”

“Alright, I guess. And who do we have here?” she asked, turning to BJ.

“This is my shiny new roommate BJ Hunnicutt,” said Hawkeye, as BJ stuck out his hand. She shook it firmly.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too, Margaret.” Just then, Margaret’s phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out.

“Oh god – it’s Frank again. I told him no way in hell this semester, but it seems he’s making a point to come over anyway.”

“We could always beat him up for you,” suggested Hawkeye, “It’s three against one.”

“Three?” said BJ.

“Don’t worry,” said Hawkeye, “you’re gonna hate this guy.”

“Not to mention, my lower back is about to go out from carrying all these boxes,” said Margaret, wincing.

“You want a backrub? You know I’m the beeeeest,” Hawkeye sing-songed.

“I’d hit you, except I know you’re right,” said Margaret.

At that moment, a twinkle appeared in BJ’s eye.

“You say this Frank guy is headed over now?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I have an idea.”

***

Ten minutes later, BJ was standing watch outside Margaret’s door when he was approached by an anxious-looking young man whose face was contorted into a grimace.

“Who are you?” presumably Frank snarled.

“Oh, I’m just waiting for my friend,” said BJ innocently.

“Your friend? He in there?” Frank shoved a thumb in the direction of Margaret’s door. BJ nodded.

At that moment, they both heard Margaret moan loudly through the door, in the throes of an orgasmic (if a tad over-acted) back massage. Frank appeared to be on the verge of tears.

“Well, whoever your friend is, he certainly hasn’t seen the last of me!” Frank huffed, turning on his heel and storming down the hallway.

“He hasn’t seen you once! He doesn’t even know who you are,” BJ replied, smiling as Frank disappeared into the stairwell. Then he knocked on Margaret’s door.

“Everybody decent in there?”

“Just barely!” came Hawkeye’s voice.

BJ entered the room. “We got him good. You shoulda seen his face!” Margaret smiled. Hawkeye came over and placed a hand on BJ’s shoulder, which BJ looked down at for some reason.

“You’ve done excellent work, Beej. And on your first day! I can’t wait to see what else you’ll accomplish.”

“You should have seen me in high school!”

***

That night found Hawkeye and BJ back in their suite. BJ had met Klinger and Radar (“He’s got ESP, that’s why they call him Radar” Radar: “Yeah, I can tell when Klinger’s about to fart just by the look on his face!” Klinger: “Hey!!”). Earlier, Klinger had cooked them up a few boxes of Kraft mac ‘n cheese (a marked improvement over dining hall food) which had been followed by a rowdy drinking game with a few other guys and gals from their floor.

As things were winding down, Hawkeye noticed that BJ was missing from the seat beside him. Hawkeye stood up, with a little trouble (he’d had quite a few at that point) and went into his room. There he saw BJ, fast asleep on one of the oversized beanbags, with his long legs dangling over the side. BJ’s bed was bare, most of his stuff still in boxes. Hawkeye grabbed the spare blanket he kept at the end of his bed and carefully draped it over BJ. The sight of BJ’s on the beanbag made Hawkeye smile. Maybe it was just his drunken state, but Hawkeye smiled all the way through brushing his teeth, and was still smiling when he got into bed and turned out the light.


End file.
